Slashy Fairy Tales
by littlechivalry
Summary: So, I have a book with the original versions of many popular fairy tales in it. And I have all these sexy HP boys..Hmmm..Every chapter is a complete story, and they may contain violence, death, incest, etc. Chapter 2- Brother & Sister- RW/BZ, two versions
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own these characters or this story, but its one of my favorites and I thought it would be perfect for these characters.

(_12345_)

**BEARSKIN**

King Lucius and Queen Narcissa, the rulers of Slytherin, were in love, and the effects shown throughout their kingdom. The people were happy and safe with their compassionate leaders, and lived in peace.

The only cloud on their love was their lack of a child. Narcissa wanted greatly to give her husband a son, an heir, but their wizard Snape, had warned her that carrying a child could kill her.

Still, out of her great love for her husband, she kindled a babe within her and carried it.

Not knowing the gravity of his wife's condition, the King was overjoyed. Every day that Narcissa was pregnant was another day he adored her, a day that he found her more beautiful than any previous. But as she reached the end of her eighth month, she began to weaken. Her skin, already fair, paler to a sickly hue, and her eyes gained a strange fire as though they were the only thing keeping her and the child within her alive.

King Lucius called for the finest doctors in the kingdom and beyond, but they, in fear for their lives, refused to tell him his wife's true condition. As the kind and gentle Queen grew weaker, the King became angrier and angrier. Finally, he gathered the doctors together and demanded the truth from them. They all stood silent, but for one. The oldest and most venerable doctor had traveled from the neighboring Kingdom of Gryffindor at the King's request and he was a brave man. Stepping forward, Dumbledore finally spoke true words to the king. "You wife is dying. The child is taking her strength. There is nothing we can do." After a moment of silence, King Lucius howled his grief and rage. He had wished for a child, but not at this cost. Never at this cost.

He threw the doctors out of his kingdom as they could do nothing but speak him empty words, and returned to his wife's bedside. He sat there for days, refusing rest and anything but the meagrest food and they talked. He told her he loved her, and that he hated her for leaving him. And they wept. She told him that she loved him, and that she loved their child. And they wept. As her stomach grew larger, she seemed to fade away, spending more and more of her time asleep, but he still did not leave his beloved's side.

Finally, one day she awoke him with an urgent hand and he looked into her face to see it screwed tight with fear and pain.

"Our babe is coming, my love."

He began again to weep, though he thought he had no tears left. "I do not want the child, if I must lose you. Why did you do this? I will be alone without you."

Smiling weakly, she said, "You are not alone. You will never be alone. I want you to marry again," she ignored his denials, "I want you to find someone you can love just like me. I want you to be happy with our child."

Then the nurses and maids rushed into the room sweeping Lucius outside. He tried to get back into the room, but the door has been barred and through the thick wood all he could hear were his wife's cries of pain, until they were broken by a child's wail and then, silence.

The oldest nurse, one who had guided Narcissa into the world, came forth with a small bundle in her hands, and tears in her eyes.

Lucius felt his legs collapse beneath him, too weak to hold him upright, as the child approached. This is what had killed his wife, this small wrinkled thing.

Regaining his strength, he resolved to care for the child, but he could not look upon him without knowing the cost. He named the child, Draco, after his wife's favorite constellation, and assigned him the nurse as a nanny with Snape to teach him later. Sending them off to an unused wing of the castle, he returned to his rooms and locked himself in with bottles of fire whiskey and his grief.

As the years turned, the kingdom of Slytherin changed. The King no longer cared for his people and the land knew it. The markets and trade collapsed and taxes grew higher at the King's whim. The people turned to banditry for money, for food. The king left his rooms but rarely, letting his advisers come to him and pour their poison in his ear.

And so it was that the war with the kingdom of Gryffindor began, for had it not been their doctor, doctor to the king and queen of that far off golden land that told the Queen she would die? The doctors, so wise, could have saved her and did not.

Sixteen years later King Lucius, roused from his chambers by the maids who would freshen his bed clothes and restock his liquor cabinet, leaned against the railing of his balcony which looked over the Royal Gardens.

Normally Lucius avoided the sight. The gardens were Narcissa's project, and they were maintained in her honor and grew as green and lush as they had during her life. His heart aching again at the thought of his beloved, Lucius clenched his jaw, but as he turned away he saw something flash in the depth of the foliage and it drew his attention. Looking closer he saw a blond head moving back and forth under the leaves of an old willow tree. The blond hair was just the color of his wife's and he was caught in the dream that it might be his Narcissa returned to him.

Gathering his robes around himself Lucius rushed back into his chambers and through the castle until he found himself at the garden gate. Beyond he saw the blond figure moving back and forth in the flourishing plants and he stepped in slowly, so as not to startle the apparition.

"Grey? Come here Grey."

The voice was soft and low, and it almost sounded like Narcissa. Lucius moved closer. The figure was still half-hidden in the shadows, but the form, slim and tall, was much like Narcissa's and they way it moved taunted him with memory.

When finally the figure turned towards him with a small palace cat in its arms, Lucius' breath caught in his throat. It was Narcissa. It was…

Hours later Lucius woke in his bed, the heavy weight of grief on his chest as he wept. He had lost her again, it was a beautiful horrible dream.

"My Lord?"

Lucius turned o the door and saw Severus Snape, one of his most trusted advisors, standing there.

"My Lord are you well? A maid found you collapsed in the garden."

"Ah Severus," the king said, "I had a fearsome dream. My beloved came back to me. She was so close, Severus." The king reached out one arm towards the open air, not seeing a shadow pass the advisor's face.

"I'm sorry, my Lord--"

"Call me by name or do not speak to me. We have known each other long enough, have we not?"

"Very well," Severus said moving further into the room and taking a seat on the low couch next to the bed. "Lucius. I'm afraid the figure you saw was not wholly the creation of your grief."

Lucius was confused. "What do you mean? it was my Narcissa, my bride come back to life."

"No, My Lo-- Lucius. It was your son, Draco."

Apart from those few moments after his birth, Lucius had never seen the babe that took his queen's life. He received regular reports from the maids and Severus regarding his schooling and behavior, but for the most part they joined the ever-growing piles of ignored paperwork in his study.

"My son is still a child Severus. That figure was almost the image of my wife when we met."

The dour and dark-haired advisor flushed lightly. "In truth Lucius, Draco is the image of his mother, with her sweet spirit and quick wit. The resemblance is quite remarkable to see."

Rising from the bed, Lucius gestured for his advisor to stand as well. "Lead me to him, Severus. Lead me to my son."

Severus nodded and led the king through the castle to an isolated wing in the west where the sun set. The halls were plain but clean, lined with art done in a childish hand.

Severus and the king came to a grand wooden door and Severus tapped the pass rhythm. When the door opened, Lucius gasped in shock. It was Narcissa.

He reached out to caress the beloved face when the figure stepped back and bowed respectfully.

"Greetings, my lord father."

"Draco….," the king said wonderingly.

The boy looked up and met his father's gaze, his eyes reflecting a confusion and wariness Lucius remembered from his wife.

"Draco your father has come to visit you," Severus said, and the boy nodded.

A voice came from the opposite doorway, "It's about time, my Lord, beggin' your pardon."

Lucius looked up and saw Pomphrey, the nurse he had assigned to his son's care. To see her here brought into reality that this boy before, the image of his late queen, was their son, his son, and the last remnant of Narcissa on Earth.

Biting back a sob Lucius rushed forward and wrapped his arms around the boy, ignoring his shocked stiffness, and weeping into his neck where silvery-blond hair brushed against his cheeks.

After long moments in which the boy relaxed enough to return his father's embrace, Lucius regained himself. He felt alive for the first time in sixteen years.

The next few weeks were a bright time for Lucius. He sent his secretaries to find every report Pomphrey and Severus had left for him and he learned everything he could about his son. The boy was as sweet-hearted as he seemed, and as intelligent as any father could wish. He was well-trained in politics and history, in court etiquette and warrior skills.

He was a Prince to be proud of.

Lucius made time to spend with his son. The members of his council had long since taken on the role of ruling Slytherin and Lucius saw no reason to change this arrangement so he was free to follow his own desires. Long afternoons would stretch into evening as Lucius grew to know and love his son.

This love became stronger as Lucius recognized the similarities between his son and the wife he had lost. It was more than their appearance, it was their behavior, and their minds. In his son Lucius knew his wife had come again, and he had no intention of losing her again.

(_12345_)

"You cannot do this, Lucius."

Severus sounded enraged. Draco had never heard the man so angry. Irritation as common, but not this disgusted rage. Desperate to know what had so overset the man he considered an uncle, Draco stayed in he shadows of the hall, out of sight.

"I am a king, Snape. I may do what I wish."

"Lucius, he is your son. I know you are in pain, and I know you believe this is a solution, but you cann--"

"It is not your place to tell me what I can and cannot do. You are merely my advisor."

Draco heard Severus gasp in shock. After an endless moment of silence, he man spoke. "What you intend to do is wrong, Your Majesty. Your son will not wish it, and your wife would not wish it. To do this will dishonor your family, and disgrace her memory."

Now Draco heard the king sigh. "I am doing what my wife wished. In her last moment she told me to find someone to love, just like her. Is there any other so like my Narcissa?" There was a pause, then Lucius said, "I will take your silence to be assent. You will see, Snape, this is how the universe has rewarded me. They have given me my bride back. Now leave me."

Draco heard Severus walk away and tucked himself further into the corner. When the black-clad man had passed, he made his way into a secret passage that would bring him back to his quarters.

He arrived there only seconds before his uncle swept in the door. Severus wore a dark shadow across his face, and Draco felt his heart leap into his throat.

"Severus? What is it? What is happening?"

The man grimaced before moving towards Draco and taking the boy into a fierce embrace, equally returned. Then he let go and motioned towards the table.

Draco knew his nurse was asleep, so he kept his voice down as he took a seat. "I heard… I'm not sure what I heard. His bride? My mother? What madness is this?"

Severus laughed roughly. "Madness indeed. Your father thinks to take you to wife."

With that Draco felt that heart in his throat drop to his stomach and land with a hard thump. He knew it must have shown on his face because Severus rubbed a hand over his face and turned away.

"I am sorry, Draco. I should not have told you that way. You are too innocent for such things."

Swallowing a wave of nausea, Draco said, "I am not so innocent that I do not understand. My father believes I am my mother returned and he means to wed me, to have me." He felt a thick dampness at the corner of his eyes and brushed away the impending tears. There would be time enough for a collapse later. "What do we do?"

A light dawned in the older man's eyes at Draco's words. Leaning forward he said, "You must escape. That is the only way you will be safe. Your father will not propose until the full moon, it is the night he proposed to your mother. That gives us time to gather your things and find a way out of the kingdom. I still have friends in other countries and we can make our way to them. It will be difficult, but I believe you can be free--"

"Free, Severus? And why should my son be free of me?"

Caught up in planning, neither Severus or Draco had noticed Lucius entering the wing, two hulking guards at his back. "I had thought to surprise my beloved, and in turn I am surprised. Did you truly plan to leave me, Draco?"

Draco shook his head quickly. The guards were fingering their scabbards and Draco could see the glitter of madness in Lucius' eyes.

"I thought not. But still, Severus, you were my trusted friend and now you betray me?"

The advisor stood, gathering his dignity around him like the folds of his cloak. "I am sorry my Lord, but your grief has warped your mind. This thing you would do is wrong."

The king shook his head sorrowfully, but Draco could still see that shine in his eyes. Slowly the king gestured to his guards and a metallic ring filled the room as the swords were pulled free.

Thinking quickly, Draco threw himself in front of his uncle. "My Lord! Please, for me do not do this. Severus has been my friend and teacher and I would not see him dead."

The guards froze and the king stepped forward, brushing Draco's cheek with his hand while the boy fought the urge the shudder and turn away.

"You are so fierce, my beloved? You would defend this traitor?"

"He is no traitor to me, My Lord. He has only my best interest at heart."

Lucius' hand tightened on Draco's jaw and the boy bit back a cry at the pain. "Your best interests are in my hands, my son. This man is nothing to you, nothing more than a servant. You are mine."

Draco pulled his face away from the king's grasping hand and nodded. "Yes, My Lord. But he has cared for me since I was a child. I would not see him die…" He had an idea and though it would break his heart the pain would be less than the loss of his only true family. Draco lowered his face and peered up at the king through his long pale lashes, "I would not see him die when I am supposed to be joyful, My Lord. It would put a pall on our wedding."

The king jerked back and Draco could feel Severus stiffening in outrage behind him, but he gestured for the dark man to remain silent.

Slowly the king smiled, moving back towards Draco and tipping his face up. The smile on the king's face was soft, gentle, and utterly mad as he pressed a chaste kiss against Draco's mouth. "Very well, my beloved. For you, and for a blessing on our union, I will keep the traitor alive. But to ensure your good behavior he will remain in he dungeons until the wedding."

Draco nodded, his fists clenching at his sides as the guards moved forward to flank Severus. Silently they led the man out of the room, and after another kiss, the king followed.

Once they were gone, Draco rushed forward to lock the door, then collapsed to the ground and wept. He was falling apart, his life was falling apart. He was trapped with a madman and Severus's life hung on he king's whim. Sick and panicking and nauseous, Draco curled up into a ball on the floor.

He slipped into a noxious sleep until he felt a warm calloused hand against his shoulder. Startled he pulled away, backing into the door. Opening eyes he didn't realize he has closed, Draco saw his nurse looking down on him.

"Ah, my poor darling. You are not fortunate, are you?"

Draco was confused for a moment, then it came back to him. "You know?"

Pomphrey nodded. "I heard it all from my room. Your poor father. He fell apart when Narcissa died and he has no way to put himself back together."

Draco saw the telltale shimmer of tears in the old woman's eyes and felt a rage rise up in him. "You sympathize with that lunatic? He wants to marry me? His own son!"

Thankfully the tear's in the old woman's eyes dried up and her face settled into firm lines. "Draco, Severus and I raised you better than that. The king has gone mad, yes, but that is no reason to be disrespectful."

Draco bit back a cry of shock as Pomphrey went on, "And we can't possibly make any plans while you're being hysterical."

A rush of hope filled Draco's chest for the first time since he heard Lucius's intentions. "Plans?"

The nurse nodded shortly and offered Draco her hand. He accepted it and got up off the floor.

(_12345_)

The castle changed over the course of only a few weeks. Though the kingdom still suffered, the inhabitants of the castle were joyous and surrounded in every luxury. Lucius had presented his son to the court, most of whom had believed the boy dead or deformed somehow. At Draco's urging the king had agreed to keep their betrothal a secret until the prince's seventeenth birthday. In preparation for their union Draco requested some specific things, in part to delay the ceremony and part in the hopes that the things he 'required' for his marriage might be impossible to obtain, thereby giving him and excuse not to go through with the ceremony.

First Draco requested a robe made form the skin of the fiercest bear in the country. It took months for a team of hunters to find the most vicious bear, and another week to trap and kill it before the skin could be removed and cured. But they succeeded and the robe was presented to the prince nine months before his birthday.

Next was a suit like the depths of the night sky. Draco thought this would be safe because the description as so vague, but the king obtained the entirety of an indigo crop an had his staff work night and day to tint the cloth to match the night sky exactly. When the suit was presented to the prince he could have wept. It was perfect. In fact he did shed one tear that he told the king was due to joy and it glittered on the fabric like a star. There were six months to go.

Next Draco requested a suit of clothes to mimic the noonday sun. This request was treated as a lark by the king. He had the suit made up of cloth of gold and sewn with threads of pure gold. It only took a few weeks to make, but Draco tried to keep this king distracted. His efforts were only partially successful and he received the golden suit three months before his birthday.

Draco knew he had to make his next request more difficult, more complicated. So, with the softest voice he could muster, he asked his father and suitor for a set of clothes that would rival the brightness of the stars in the heavens, in honor of his mother and the constellation that was his name. Lucius acquiesced, as he had with all of Draco's requests, and the work began. Suits were made and discarded by the dozens for not being exactly right, not being perfect. Lucius had all of his advisors work on it, even going so far as to consult with the imprisoned Severus Snape who refused to help and suffered mightily for it, left injured but alive in accordance with the king's orders.

Finally the suit was made and presented to the prince on the night before his birthday. In the preceding year Draco had received many presents from his father, but none so precious to him as stories about his mother. And with each story he received a token that belonged to the woman, a miniature golden spinning wheel, a tiny copper thimble, and on the night he was presented the shining suit of stars, a silver ring that the queen received from her own father when she was betrothed.

Lucius embraced his son briefly, then left him to sleep. The next day, Draco's birthday, they would be wed and then he would have his bride again.

When the king was gone from his chambers, Draco shook his head to drive away the fear and disgust he felt at the older man's hand s and called out his nurse.

"Are we prepared?"

She nodded her head. "The guards will release Severus at midnight. He knows where to go, and your exit is prepared.

Turning to the woman who had been by his side since the day he was born, Draco said, "Are you sure you want to do this, Pomphrey? He will kill you."

The woman set her hand on the prince's shoulder and smiled. "I have lived a long life, my child. I have seen you and your mother and many others into the world, and now I may help you escape this terrible fate. I have lived a good life and I will die well."

Draco felt tears press and fought them back. "You may not die. The king is not so far gone into madness."

Pomphrey smiled, but Draco could see the sorrow that traced her lips. "Yes, I may live. The king has been merciful in the past." Embracing the prince, she said, "We will meet again." She released him. "Now go. There is no time to waste. Run, and hide, and be free and joyous in the world."

Draco nodded and took the bag he had prepared with the gifts and some food. Wrapping the bearskin robe around himself, he made his way to the hidden corridor Pomphrey had discovered months before, and without looking back he ran.

There was a large forest between the kingdoms of Slytherin and Gryffindor that was declared sacrosanct by the two countries. It would provide some safety for the prince and so that is where he went. A small cave became his home and the thick bearskin his covering. For months he lived on berries and nuts and what small animals he could catch.

And so Draco lived for a year, alone in the woods. The nights were cold and frightening, but eventually he got used to the constant noise of the forest, so similar and yet so different from palace life. Sometimes he heard hunters or travelers moving through the forest, but he was intelligent and he hid, trusting to the foliage and the bearskin cloak that he never went without to hide him.

On the dawn of his eighteenth birthday he woke early to watch the sunrise. One year ago this day he fled the only home he'd ever known and he wondered now where his friends were, Severus and Pomphrey, whether they were alive. He kept them in his thoughts at all times and hoped they managed to escape his father's wrath. On that note he wondered how his father was. In the rush and terror of the king's sudden madness Draco never had the chance to get to know the man Pomphrey and Severus had befriended. They told him stories as he grew that gave his father the image of a hero, a brave and loving man who defended his family and subjects honorably. Draco mourned the loss of that man and hoped somehow Lucius would find peace.

As the vivid colors of dawn faded into a sunny blue Draco rose from his perch in a tree branch and jumped to the ground.

"Did you see that?"

The voice was a harsh whisper and Draco didn't recognize it. All he knew was that he had been seen. Pulling the cloak tighter around himself to hide his distinctive pale hair, he turned and ran for his cave. Behind him he heard horses and dogs. Why hadn't he known they were there? How could he have missed them?

Breath wheezing in his chest he ran faster, hearing the men and animals approach. As they came closer the voices were more distinctive.

"It's a bear, leave it be."

"No bear would jump from a tree like that. It's a wood elf or something."

"There's no such thing Harry. That's just a fairy story my mum told you. Leave it be before it turns and eats you."

"I can't, Ron. I can't."

Suddenly the dogs were upon him, their gnashing teeth caught in the hem of his cloak and bringing him to the ground where he landed in a puddle of thick mud. He couldn't run without leaving his cloak behind and it was the only disguise he had, so Draco stayed still. Hoping the men and their dogs would leave him be once they discovered he was not what they thought.

There was no such luck as he heard them dismount from their horses and walk closer, heavy footsteps over the dead leaves sending echoes through the dark woods.

"See Ron, I told you it wasn't a bear." the voice was gentle enough, but Draco couldn't focus. He just wanted to be left alone.

The men walked closer and one pulled back the bear skin, exposing Draco's now mud covered face and hair to the light. Draco saw a red headed man with bright blue eyes look over at a green-eyed boy.

"See Harry. It's no wood elf, just some vagrant," the red head said.

The green eyed boy walked closer, examining Draco carefully. "He's not a vagrant, Ron, and he's definitely not a bear." he smiled softly and spoke directly to Draco. "Are you alright? Did the dogs hurt you?"

Draco bit his tongue, knowing sharp words would not help him here, and shook his head.

With a sharp whistle the dogs let go of his cloak and he was able to sit up, getting his feet under him in case he had to run.

"Who are you," the green eyed boy asked.

Draco shook his head, then saw the red head's eyes narrow. Knowing his silence would not be enough this time, Draco said, "I have no name."

The two men winced at the harsh croaking sound of Draco's voice, but no more than Draco did. Had it been that long since he'd spoken?

Recovered from the shock, the green eyed boy smiled again. "Are you sure? Well, we cannot call you no one, so we must call you… Bearskin."

"Why do I need a name at all," Draco growled.

The red head stepped forward, fist held high and Draco shrank back, but before the blow could land, the green eyed boy reached forward and blocked it. "Enough, Ron." Turning back to Draco he said, "I cannot leave you here. This forest is Gryffindor country and if the border guards saw you, you would be dead."

There was no clear border line in the forest and Draco opened his mouth to argue it, then closed it again. No peasant would know about the borders, which meant the green eyed boy and his angry companion were nobles at least, and if Draco argued they might suspect his rank as well and return him to his father.

"Can I not stay here," Draco asked, his harsh voice a breathy growl.

The green eyed boy shook his head, looking almost sad. "I am sorry, but this forest is not safe. Come with us and we will find you a home and work, perhaps even clean you up a bit, eh?" He smiled, but there was still sorrow in the depths of his verdant eyes.

Draco nodded and stood to follow them. He had no weapons and he could not use his rank as a prince to argue. Once again he was carried along by fate.

Draco led the men, Ron and Harry, to his cave where he gathered up the satchel containing his belongings, the few trinkets of his mothers and the three beautiful suits his father had made. Ron made as if to look in the bag, but when Draco snarled at him Harry laughed and waved the red head away.

At Harry's insistence Draco rode behind him on a proud raven charger, the bag held between their bodies. It was a long ride and as the adrenaline of the chase wore off Draco found himself drooping over his possessions. He heard Harry and Ron speaking about the weather and the existence of wood elves, but paid their words no mind. There was no point in it now.

He was woken from his drowse as they approached a large castle. Panicking for a moment at the thought they had returned to Slytherin, Draco sighed in relief at the sight of a red and gold flag of Gryffindor. As they dismounted their horses by the stable Draco clutched his bag tighter, looking around him with wide eyes.

A giant of a man with a bristling beard came out of the stables and took the reins of Ron and Harry's horses before looking at Draco.

"Ere, Your Majesty, who's this then?"

Draco opened his mouth to answer, then bit his tongue as Harry said, "This is Bearskin, Hagrid. We're going to give him a job and a place to live."

The man eyed Draco suspiciously, then his face cleared and he grinned widely. "Good job, Your Majesty. You have your mother's heart and no mistake."

Harry grinned up at the man and Draco looked at the green eyed boy more carefully. He was dressed in regular clothing, but studying him more carefully Draco now saw a small crest on his shirt sleeve and above that a small crown. This was the prince. This was the prince of Gryffindor.

Draco's urge to panic was quieted as Harry turned to him and smiled, seeming to notice his upset. Speaking quietly and in a soothing tone, Harry said, "I'm not sure where we can put you, Bearskin. Do you have any skills?"

Draco thought for a moment. As a prince he had been educated in everything under the sun, except the practicalities. He shook his head, no.

Harry looked at Ron, but the red head just snorted. "Might as well make him turn the spits. A bit of ash and coal dust won't mar his looks."

Harry narrowed his eyes before turning back to Draco, still wrapped in the bear's skin and half-covered in mud.

"Would you like that Bearskin? Would you be happy in the kitchens? I must warn you it gets hot and my cook is temperamental."

Draco considered it. The heat would be a welcome change from the often frigid temperature of the woods, and ash and soot would help him hide.

"I may keep my cloak," he asked and Harry nodded. "Then I shall do it."

And so his new career began. A large storage closet by the kitchens was cleared out and Draco took it as his own, building a bed out of old blankets and cushions. He slept in complete warmth and comfort for the first time in a year.

His duties were simple. He roamed the night, stoking the fires in the kitchens and the halls, then he was free. Later on in the day he would have to turn the great spits of the kitchen for hours, then he would be released to start fires in the residential chambers while everyone was at dinner. The kitchen staff ignored him, not with cruelty, but he was isolated all the same. The only person that truly acknowledged his presence was the prince, but Draco saw him only rarely. In the long quiet hours when he wasn't sleeping and had no duties Draco would read one of the thousands of books to be found in the libraries or sit in the corner of the kitchen and listen to the workers gossip. It was nice, comfortable in a way, and worlds away from his youth as a prince in his own right.

Things continued in this fashion for months until one day the level of excitement in the castle spiked. Draco wanted to know what was going on, but since Harry was unavailable, he had to ask one of the kitchen crew. Moving furtively he grabbed the hem of a maid's shirt. She gasped in shock when he spoke, but then told him what he wanted to know.

Harry's birthday was coming. He would be eighteen and three balls were planned. Everyone in the castle was working to prepare the palace, it's grounds, and the grand ballroom that Draco had never seen.

With that the work began. There were guests from all over the country so there were more rooms to prepare, and large meals served every day so Draco spent hours at the spit.

On the day of the first ball tragedy struck in the kitchen. Half of the staff fell sick from tainted food they purchased from a peddler. That left the head chef, Remus Lupin, enraged and cursing all peddlers and feckless workers who couldn't even be trusted to prepare their own meals. Draco watched the man round up footmen and maids and everyone he could get his hands on, and the blond was half-convinced he would have brought in Hagrid if the man only fit through the door.

Watching the otherwise easy-going cook slowly unravel, Draco did the one thing he had been avoiding.

He stepped forward.

"My Master, I can help if you need me."

He felt the cook's eyes rake over his fur covered form, taking in the ash and soot that covered any skin exposed to the light.

Still the kitchen was short staffed, and the balls could not be postponed, so the man agreed. Pomphrey taught Draco to cook when he was a child, reasoning that everyone should know something of how to care for themselves, and Draco had a soup recipe that he felt would be easy to make and of a suitable quality for the guests. He explained the recipe to Remus and the man looked interested, so Draco was left to cook with a warning that he not let any hair fall into the food.

That night Draco cooked, and helped plate the food. He wasn't allowed into the dining hall in his fur and soot, but he could prepare the trays in the kitchen.

Draco considered Harry his friend, and admired the Gryffindor prince's ability to make even the lowest scullery maid feel like an equal, and he wanted to honor the only person he considered a friend, so as the plates of soup were being prepared for the table, Draco dropped the tiny golden spinning wheel he had received into the bowl.

The food went out and Draco peered into the hall from a little used side doorway. He saw Harry and Ron and the lords and ladies of Gryffindor eat and drink in good cheer and his heart ached. They were more than master and vassals, they were friends and Draco didn't understand such a thing. He had never known anyone he could consider a friend. Pomphrey was like his grandmother, and Severus was family. No one else was ever around him long enough to know.

The kitchen staff were dismissed as the chef and his workers would be joining the nobility at the ball so Draco retired to his room. Thin moonlight trickled through the high casement window and Draco imagined he could hear the musicians. He had never been to a ball, though Pomphrey told him stories of the glitter and beauty to be found there. One night when he was a child they had Severus play the harpsichord and Draco and Pomphrey dressed in their best finery and had a ball of their own. It was a merry night as they traced the steps of the old dances in the middle of the playroom, toys and carpets pushed against the walls.

An errant ray of candlelight fell on Draco's bag and caught the shine of the fine fabrics inside. Draco opened the satchel and ran his fingers over the three suits. They had been made for the wrong reasons, but they were beautiful and had never been worn.

A spirit of mischief entered his heart and Draco took out the suit the color of the night sky and made his way to the pumphouse by the stables. Washing away the soot and ash of his work from his skin, Draco caught a glimpse of himself in the shining surface of the washtub. He was pale, no sun had touched him since he came to the castle, and his hair had grown long and soft, braided tightly at the back of his head most days. Unbraiding it Draco gasped as it fell to a shining river of silver to the middle of his back.

Pulling on the suit he felt like a ghost, like a spirit of the night. He felt beautiful. And with his heart in his throat he made his way back into the castle.

The long hallways that circled the ballroom were empty, most of the castle's inhabitants inside dancing or flirting in the few curtained off alcoves. Waiting until the room was truly full and the music playing loud and sweet, Draco entered, silently.

His eyes widened at the sight. It was amazing. Courtiers danced with maids and the fine ladies of the court with footmen. Even Hagrid was there, nodding his head along with the music. And what music it was, filling the ballroom with longing notes, like hope and lost love. Before he knew what he was doing Draco was moving across the floor and towards the band.

And if those he passed stopped their dancing and flirtations to watch the mysterious boy , he had no thought of it. All he wanted was the music. As he arrived in front of the band he grinned. Harry was there, a violin in his hands, the instrument calling out for love and passion in delicate notes.

Harry too was enraptured in the music he produced, his eyes closed and mouth pursed while his arms created the sound and his body swayed in rhythm.

When finally the song drew to a close Draco was the first and loudest to call for more, his hands sore from clapping.

Harry opened his eyes to face the audience and froze, his mouth opened as his hands fell to his sides, only habit and long training keeping him from dropping the instruments.

Passing his beloved violin to his godfather, Harry stepped down from the musician's dais and towards the blond.

Draco froze, not sure whether to run or stand his ground, but before he could make up his mind Harry was there in front of him, offering his hand.

Draco accepted it, then blushed as Harry lifted the delicate fingers to his lips and kissed the air above them lightly.

Looking up with gentle laughter in his eyes, Harry said, "I have always been told stories of the wood elves that live in my forest. Are you one of those come to dance with me on my birthday?"

Draco, unable to help himself, laughed. Heads turned at the sound but he only had eyes for the man in front of him. "My Lord, your birthday is not for two more days. Tonight is merely a precursor for the main event."

Harry grinned. "Then you will have to come the next two days, and if this is only the beginning you must become more beautiful." Playfully wincing, Harry said, "I wonder if my eyes will be able to survive such loveliness."

Draco laughed again, enjoying this new side of his friend. He opened his mouth to introduce himself, before stopping. He couldn't let Harry know who he was. Draco still didn't know if his father was looking for him, and Harry was an honorable man. If Harry knew who Draco as he would be returned to his father, and he could not allow that to happen.

He was brought out of his thoughts by Harry's sigh. Looking up at the green-eyed man again Draco saw him smile sadly. "I have bored you already, haven't I? I've been told I'm very tedious. Will you dance with me anyway?"

Laughing again Draco accepted his offer and together they swung into a gentle waltz. They danced their first dance with Draco's hand on Harry's waist and he smiled when the other prince shivered. Then it was his turn to shiver when they switched positions for the second dance and he felt the heat of Harry's palm against his lower back.

For hours they danced until Draco heard a loud bell ring, a herald of the midnight shift change for the guards. In a few hours Draco would be called on to tend the fires in the castle.

Pulling away from the prince, Draco said, "I'm sorry, I must go."

Harry looked sad for a moment, then pouted slightly and grinned. "Very well, you may go. But tomorrow night you must be more beautiful, agreed?"

Draco only laughed and took his leave.

Once he was out of sight he began running until he was out under the night sky. Rushing into the pumphouse where he had left his things, he pulled the bearskin robe back on, braided his hair away from his face, and covered his face and hands with soot.

Well hidden again Draco went about his duties with a light heart. He had been to a ball, and danced. It was something to dream about.

The next day the kitchens were full of stories about the mysterious blond who had danced with the prince but Draco didn't hear any of them, too caught in his own daydreams and the rhythm of the turning spit.

He made the soup again that night, more at the prince's request than any need of his presence as many of the sick staff members had recovered enough to return to work.

Smiling, Draco dropped the tiny thimble in the thick broth, hoping Harry would find it and like the gift.

That night as the other workers made their way to the ballroom, Draco hid, and when the coast was clear he returned to the pump house and changed into the suit made to challenge the noonday sun.

This time when he entered the ballroom he noticed the looks he was getting and blushed. He had been looked at before by Pomphrey and Severus, and later by his father, but it was not the same. These were strangers, and they admired him as though he was some beautiful thing.

The crowd parted and Draco found himself in front of Harry before he even thought to search for the green eyed prince.

"Ah, you have returned and you are indeed more beautiful, my wood elf. I fear now in truth that shall go blind tomorrow. Even today you dazzle me almost to the point of tears." Harry's words were playful, and his voice held a note of laughter that sent a shiver down Draco's spine, but his eyes were completely serious, and this time when Harry took up Draco's fingers he did not kiss the air above them but instead pressed a kiss upon the pale skin. Draco felt a breath roll over the back of his hand and closed his eyes, opening them again as Harry took his hand and led him to the dance floor.

Again they spun n each other's arms until the midnight bell rang and Draco was once more reminded of his duties. This time Harry held on, trying to prevent his escape, but Draco was intent. He had to leave. He leaned in and kissed Harry on the cheek, shocking the green eyed man into letting go, and fled.

Returning to his fur cloak and soot Draco smiled and hummed the waltz from the ball quietly. He spent the day in another daze, his thought only on Harry and the ball. But his thoughts took a darker turn as the day aged and he was reminded that this was the last night, the last time he would be able to dance with the boy whom he had only now realized took up so much space in his heart.

His chest heavy Draco went about making the soup and before it was taken out of the kitchen, he set his mother's silver ring in the bottom of the bowl.

As the kitchen emptied again, Draco allowed himself a few brief moments to grieve. This was the last night he would be a prince. Once he left the ball tonight he would destroy the three suits and become Bearskin forevermore.

Resolved, he went to the pumphouse and changed. He took extra pains to be more beautiful as he dressed in his suit that rivaled the stars in the skies. His hair flowed like pure water down his back, and the silver light of his clothes was rivaled by the shine of his eyes.

When he entered the hall it seemed as though most of the dancers had been waiting for him because the crowd gasped as one. This time, instead of his going to Harry, the prince came to him and without words led him onto the dance floor.

In silence they danced for hours, their hands absorbing the warmth of each other's bodies. There were no jokes tonight, no harmless flirting. This was the third night, this was Harry's birthday, this was the end.

As the bell rang, Draco pulled away. As he did he noticed a shimmer from Harry's hand and pulled it closer. The ring was on his finger, and when he saw it Draco felt tears well up in his eyes.

Before they could fall he fled the ballroom and hid in the pump house, to weep until he fell asleep.

He was woken hours later by a roaring voice. Peering out of the pump house he saw Hagrid calling for his stable boys, most of whom appeared to have over indulged the night before in honor of the prince. Draco stepped towards the door, reaching for the latch before he gasped. His hand was still pale. Looking down he saw he was still clad in the shining suit, his hair unbound and his skin bare to the world. He had fallen asleep without changing, and any moment someone would come searching for him.

Hurriedly tying back his hair and throwing the cloak on over his clothes, Draco pulled the hood down low over his face, hoping to hide himself until he could get to his room.

He made it across the courtyard and into the kitchen before he was stopped.

"Bearskin, where have you been? The fire in the audience chamber has died and the prince and his advisors are cold."

Draco nodded, too frightened to talk or look up into the chef's face.

"Well, go tend it."

Draco froze. He had to change, he had to hide, but the cook's voice brooked no argument and Draco nodded, reaching out with the hem of his cloak to pick up the coal scuttle.

Holding it close to his robes he rushed out of the room, thinking only to stoke the embers and leave but that was not to be. The prince's council was in session, each man wrapped in heavy robes. Draco kept his head down as one of them approached him.

"Hey there you, we are freezing in here from your laziness."

Another interrupted, "Now then, he is just tired. Last night's celebration was excitement enough the exhaust all of us."

The first again, "Celebration? Hardly. I would bet he has gotten into the wine."

Draco felt the man approach and froze. Then he heard other footsteps and a feeling of anticipation filled the air around him.

"Leave him be, Jenkins. He is tending the fires as is his duty, and you are to be serving the prince."

Draco held his breath. It was Severus. He did not know whether to fall to the floor in a dead faint, or embrace the man and weep into his robes. Stuck, he just stoked the fire, slowly so he could hear what was being discussed.

After Severus rejoined the table, Draco heard him mumble something.

Harry replied, "It was a gift. I found it in my soup last night. There were two other tokens on the previous nights. I expect the servants banded together to surprise me for my birthday."

"May I see the ring closer, my lord," Severus asked, and Draco held his breath but the man said nothing, only hummed quietly.

"May I have it back, Severus? I believe I have a rather sentimental attachment to it," the king said and Draco smiled under the deep shadow of his hood.

The fire was burning brightly and with no further excuse to stay in the room Draco moved towards the door.

"Bearskin."

Draco heard Harry's call and turned sharply. He felt the hood move but his hands were full of the coal scuttle and shovel and before he could do anything the hood fell and he was exposed.

The prince's mouth dropped open, along with most of his advisors, but Draco felt only a hot rush of humiliation in his cheeks. Dropping the coal scuttle to the ground with a heavy crash he turned and ran out of the hall. His robe was heavy and the weight of it wrapped around his ankles. More concerned with getting away than being discovered, Draco released he clasp and let it fall to the ground, exposing the shining suit.

He ran through the kitchen and out the door into the courtyard, but before he could get any further he was stopped by a giant figure, Hagrid.

Pushing against the man's chest and weeping Draco demanded to be let go, but Hagrid would not move. Eventually, exhausted, Draco collapsed to his knees, his face buried in his hands.

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder and flinched away, but the grip was insistent and seeing no other choice Draco gave in and looked up. Before him as Harry, smiling with tear filled eyes, and behind him, Severus Snape.

"Is that you, my Bearskin? Are you my wood elf?"

Draco nodded, wiping the tears roughly from his cheeks and rising to his feet with Hagid's help. Once he regained his footing he bowed to Harry, then again to Severus.

"I am Draco Malfoy, my Lord, Prince of Slytherin. Do with me as you will."

Laughing Harry rushed forward and took Draco in his arms, kissing him chastely on the lips. "And if I say I will have you forever, my Bearski--Draco?"

Draco looked from Harry to Severus. "But I-- my father?"

The dark advisor smiled slightly, or perhaps the habitual shadow of irritation and sorrow lightened from his face for a moment as he said, "Your father is dead, Draco. His council betrayed him, but in the moment before he died he regained himself and declared you free and safe."

Draco looked for the truth in Severus's eyes and saw it.

"And Pomphrey?"

"She has passed, but she died well. She told the king nothing, saying only that she loved you and your mother and wished for you to be happy."

Draco felt tears rise in his eyes to match those of Severus and Harry, and with the arm that wasn't wrapped around the Gryffindor he pulled the advisor close and embraced him.

Standing in the midst of the man he had grown to love and the one he considered his true father, Draco felt hope burst in his heart. He missed Pomphrey, and the parents he never truly knew, but he would meet them again someday. Now he had Severus and Harry, and Harry was wearing his ring.

"You know you should return that, Harry," he said, smiling.

The Gryffindor prince only grinned back and said, "I cannot do that, my wood elf. It was a birthday gift. But I shall give you another in exchange on the day we wed if you so desire."

"I so desire," Draco said, and pulled Harry into a kiss that held all of the love and potential he held in his heart.

(_12345_)

**Note**: Okay, if I tell you all that it took me an entire day to write this story, despite the fact that someone else had written it before me and I was just adapting the plot, would you believe me? Because it is very true.

This is the first in a series of slash fan fictions based on classic fairy tales. Each chapter is self-contained and complete, and I have no idea how many there will be.

If you enjoyed it, please let me know. I like reviews. They give me a happy… in the pants.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters or these worlds. I'm just having some fun. Though, as hot as it is today, it feels more like work.

**Pre-Story Note: **I had some trouble writing this fairy tale. I started it out in a more traditional manner, then I had an idea for a more science-fiction story. So, because I could not make up my mind, I wrote both and here they are. First is the traditional story, and then the more futuristic one, though the basic plots are the same. Let me know what you think.

(_12345_)

**BROTHER AND SISTER**

**VERSION 1**

When Ron Weasley was a child, a plague came through the land and took his parents and the oldest of his brothers. Bandits and army conscription took the others in the wake of the devastation, leaving the little boy alone with his baby sister, Ginny.

They were taken in by a neighbor, Mundungus Fletcher, but the man had no care for children. He ignored the little boy and girl for weeks on end. When he was around he beat them on a daily basis, and Ron would often have to put himself between his sister and the man's vicious blows. They were fed nothing but scraps and blamed for the man's hardships.

After Ron turned twelve, he knew they could withstand it no longer. He gathered what few possessions he and Ginny had gotten in their short lives, and took off into the forests that surrounded their shabby house.

Ron and Ginny had always known Fletcher as a peddler and traded in stolen goods, but they had no idea he was a wizard, and when he noticed their departure the man took off after them, seeking to halt their escape.

Ron and Ginny walked for hours until they found a small pool full of cool, clear water. Ginny leaned down to the edge to drink, but Ron heard the song of the birds in the air and pulled her back.

When she argued, he told her, "That water will turn you into a vicious tiger who would devour me. We cannot drink here."

The little girl nodded, and together the brother and sister traveled on.

Hours later, exhausted and thirsty, they saw a well. Ginny rushed forward to draw the bucket as Ron heard the birds singing again,

"No, Ginny, you mustn't drink or you will become--"

But it was too late, and where the little girl had knelt, there now was a gentle fawn. The little girls red hair had becomes the russet tones of the fawn's fur, and her freckles were echoed in the white spots on its coat.

Ron felt the loss of his sister on his heart and he fell to his knees and wept.

"Why could you not wait, Ginny? Now I have lost you."

The fawn came forward and nuzzled Ron's red hair. From the animal's throat came a guttural voice. "I am not dead, Ron. I am just transformed. You have not lost me and we are still together."

Ron embraced the deer, then stood, wiping the tears from his face with the tattered cuff of his shirt. He knew he would have to be strong for his baby sister, but now it was even more important to protect and watch over the little fawn.

Together they traveled onward for days, until they came across an abandoned cottage in the middle of the great woods, ivy covering the roof and creeping in through the windows and doors.

To the two weary travelers, boy and deer, it looked like nothing more than heaven. Ron turned to his sister and said, "This will be our home."

And so it was. Working together, the brother and sister cleared away some of the plants inside the cottage. Ron built a bed, and table and chair, from some fallen branches he gathered in the woods, and they gathered nuts and berries for their meals, along with some small animals for Ron, though never venison.

And so they lived for years, happier than they thought they could be in the years after their parents died when they lived with Fletcher. Ginny grew and became a large and beautiful doe. She could no longer live in the small cottage but instead spent the days wandering the forest, returning to the cabin at night where brother and sister would sleep side by side, sharing warmth.

One day as Ginny was wandering the woods, she heard a distant horn and perked up her ears. Hunters were rare, fearing the monsters spoken of that lived in the heart of the forest, but sometimes the braver and more foolhardy would risk their loves for the chance of a majestic catch.

Hearing the hunting horns come closer, and the sound of baying hounds, Ginny took to her heels, running back to their small cottage. She scratched at the door with her fore-hoof. "My brother, my brother, let me in," she cried in her husky voice.

Ron opened the door and Ginny rushed in, not noticing the watcher hiding in the brush.

A boy, Neville, had come with the hunters, sent to run head with the dogs and frighten prey out of the bushes and he saw a majestic doe run on fleet hooves across the forest floor to a cottage. Being of a curious bent, he followed and saw what he never thought to see, a deer speaking.

Flush with excitement at his discovery the boy rushed back to the senior huntsman, and he in turn brought the story back to the castle and to the ear of Prince Blaise, known for his fascination with marvels.

The prince, half disbelieving but intrigued, agreed to go with the huntsman on his next foray into the woods. This time they left the hounds and horses behind, but brought with them Neville as he was the only on who knew where the cottage was.

Together they found the doe and gently startled her again. On silent feet they followed her as she retuned to the cabin, and as she asked her brother to open the door, the prince's breath caught in his throat. _A talking deer, who had heard of such a thing. _Neither the prince, the huntsman, or the boy could see the figure in the cottage, and a curiosity rose in the prince's breast.

A few days later the prince returned to the woods alone, leaving his retinue of guards on the outskirts of the forest. He came upon the cottage and moved slowly towards the door. Seeing no one, he scratched at the door much as he had seen the deer so, and, trying to echo the deer, said, "Brother, Brother, let me in."

The door opened slowly, and the prince could not prevent a gasp, nor a small but growing smile at the sight that greeted him.

The boy was a vision, tall, only slightly shorter than the prince, and well-muscled. Gem-bright blue eyes sat in a lovely face, and hair as red as fire capped it all. The boy seemed affected as well. The prince had been told he was good looking before, flattery by the ladies and lads of the realm, but in the red heads stare he truly believed their words of praise for his cocoa colored skin, and the depth of his black eyes.

For the first time in his life, Blaise knelt before another, not even realizing it as is knee hit the ground.

"You-- You are lovely. Pray, what is your name?"

The boy blushed, Blaise could see that much beneath his lowered eyelashes.

"I am Ron, Ron Weasley, but please get up. You are obviously noble, and my house is humble. Please get up."

Blaise took the hand he was offered, rubbing his thumb softly over the warm freckled skin, and stood.

Ron blushed brightly at Blaise did not release his hand.

"Are-- Are you lost, My Lord? I could direct you through the forest?"

Blaise shook his head and smiled. "No, I have found all I sought in this place. You are like a dream I once had that I forgot upon waking with nothing more than a sweet emotion in remembrance."

For the first time Blaise noticed he had not risen from his knee and looked upon it as an omen. He looked up at Ron again and pressed a gentle kiss to his fingers before saying, "Will you marry me?"

Dry leaves rustled and both Ron and Blaise turned to see Ginny standing poised at the edge of the yard. Sha laughed in her rough voice. "You should take him up on it, my brother. How often will a prince propose marriage to a peasant boy?"

Blaise grinned at the doe's words and looked at Ron who echoed the expression before nodding.

His heart filled with joy, Blaise jumped to his feet and wrapped his arms around Ron, kissing him passionately.

Ron insisted that his sister come with him and he explained their circumstances to the prince. Blaise agreed to anything that would make his love happy and together the three of them traveled through the woods and back to Blaise's men who cheered when they saw their lord in the company of such a beautiful youth and the talking doe.

The wedding was a wonder and the entire land was there to witness Blaise's marriage for he was a kind and just ruler, and much beloved. All that saw the ceremony swore that they had never seen two men so happy, their hands entwined under the eyes of the bishop, a kindly old man named Dumbledore.

Some months later Ron grew ill. Blaise and Ginny were worried so they called upon the greatest healer in the country, a man named Severus Snape. Snape examined Ron, then announced to the pacing Blaise that his husband, his Ron, was pregnant.

And there was great rejoicing.

The entire country celebrated again when they learned that their prince, now king, was expecting a child. But far across the land Fletcher learned of the news and his heart was filled with bitterness nd rage. He had succeeded in punishing Ginny with his evil spell, but Ron had escaped unscathed, and now rewarded with his marriage to the rich and powerful king. Fletcher conspired with his cohort, Moody, to take vengeance on Ron for escaping.

Ron's pregnancy proceeded in a normal fashion. Well, as normal as a male pregnancy could, and in a kingdom when no one was really shocked to see a talking deer, it was pretty normal.

Blaise was kept out of the delivery room and he spent those long hours pacing up and down the halls of the castle, Ginny clipping along at his side. When the baby was born the nurse carried him out to Blaise. He had skin like milk chocolate and Ron's bright blue eyes.

Blaise wanted to rush into the room and kiss his beloved husband in gratitude, but the nurses put him off, saying Ron needed time to clean up and rest.

Unfortunately what Blaise didn't know was that the nurse was Fletcher in disguise and as the king held his son in the hallway, Fletcher's assistant Moody had grabbed Ron, still exhausted and pained from the birth and drowned him in the tub that had been put aside for him to bathe.

The king, impatient, began pounding on the door to get in to his husband and Fletcher panicked. He knew he needed time to escape so he used a spell to disguise Moody as Ron and forced the man to take his place in the bed. The only thing they couldn't change was the scar where Moody had lost an eye.

Eventually the king got in and hurried to the bed that held his love, but instead of rushing into his kiss as he always had, Ron was reticent, leaning back against he pillows with his hair hanging over his face. As Blaise reached out to brush it back and press a kiss against Ron's brow, the nurse moved forward.

"My Lord, my Lord, be patient. Hasn't he had enough of that already? You have the proof of your love in your arms, let your husband rest."

The king blushed and moved back, looking at the child in his arms and missing the conspiratorial look that passed between Fletcher and 'Ron.'

At the nurse's urging Blaise left the room, bringing the baby to the nursery they had prepared. According to the nurse that was tending Ron he was very ill and could not leave his bed so Ginny took it upon herself to stay in the nursery and watch over the baby.

That night Blaise slept alone, not knowing that his beloved husband was dead and gone, his body stowed away in a trunk that had been buried in the garden.

And as Ginny stood watch by the crib of her nephew she saw an amazing thing.

The next day she rushed to Blaise and said, "Your Majesty, I have seen something strange and wonderful. We have to talk to Ron."

Together they rushed to Ron's room and found the still-transformed Moody in the red head's bed.

Ginny looked at her brother and said, "Where were you last night?"

Moody kept his head down, red hair covering his face to hide the missing eye. "I was here in my bed. I am weak and need to rest."

Ginny and Blaise took their cue from Ron and left. In the hallway Ginny turned to Blaise and said, "Stand watch with me in the baby's room tonight. I cannot give words to what I have seen."

That night Blaise took up a position in the shadows of the nursery where Ginny indicated. The night passed peacefully until it was a few hours before dawn. Then a soft light began to glow next to the baby's crib and slowly that light became Ron, as sweet and beautiful as ever he had been.

The red head reached down and scratched Ginny between the ears, then lifted the baby boy out of the cradle and held him in his arms. In Ron's face was all of the love Blaise had ever seen him show and there was something deep and despairing in that expression. Ginny made an enquiring noise and Ron turned to her, saying, "I can only come one more night, my sister. Then I will have to lay me down and rest. But some strange magic has given me three nights to say farewell to my baby and you." With one last kiss, Ron laid the baby back down on his blankets and stepped away.

As the sun rose, so did the image of Ron fade away until there was no one in the nursery but Blaise, Ginny, and the crying child.

Blaise stepped out of his hiding place and looked at Ginny, tears in his eyes. "What does he mean? How can he have been in his bedchamber and say he is gone?"

Ginny stood and faced the king. "I asked the false Ron where he was yester night and he said in his room. That is how I knew he was not my brother. Besides, there is something dark and fierce about the imposter that my brother never had."

Blaise thought about the changes in his husband since the birth of their son and he had to agree with Ginny. Though their contact had been limited, still it was not hard to hide that something darker sat in Ron's stead.

That day they tested the false Ron again, asking where he had been the nights past and if he was well enough to rise from bed and all the while Moody demurred, acting as he thought the deceased red head would act.

That night Blaise and Ginny sat vigil in the nursery again, and that night the ghostly red head appeared as he had the two nights previous, taking his son into his arms and bestowing the whole of his heart's love upon the child.

"I'm sorry, my little one. I wanted to stay with you, but I cannot. Magic has given me these three nights to say my good-byes, but now-- oh, now I don't think I can go!"

Blaise emerged from his hiding place behind the drapes and approached Ron. "Why should you have to? You must stay here with me, with us," he said, gesturing to the babe and Ginny.

Ron blushed. "It is not my choice, my husband. Magic has taken my life and given me only this half-life in its place."

Ron laid the baby in his crib, but before he could move away Blaise rushed forward wrapping his arms around him.

"There is no magic more powerful than love, and my love commands that you must stay, lest my heart flee my chest from the pain of your absence."

Blaise could feel his hot tears flow down his face, and as the fell from his cheeks to Ron's the man in his arms felt more solid and more real by the moment.

Blaise closed his eyes tight as sunrise approached, not willing to see his love leave him, but as he felt the heat of the morning light against his back he opened his eyes.

Ron was still there, in his arms, the warmth of his body pressed against Blaise's own.

Now the red head was weeping, tightening his grip on his husband and king and laughing through his tears.

"Oh, my love, I am free. I am alive and returned to you."

Together the two men embraced and wept as they kissed, salt tears mixing.

Ginny nosed in between them, pressing her own kisses on her brother's face. And finally the babe took up the call from his position between them and began to scream, prompting Blaise to lift his son up in his arms and laugh.

Once the fierce emotions of the moment passed Ron was able to explain what had happened to him and together they made a plan.

A group of guards stormed the room in which the false Ron lay, with the real Ron at their back. At the sight of him the magic that had hidden Moody's identity faded, exposing the man and he was taken into custody. Fletcher had run at the first opportunity, leaving his cohort to his fate, but he was captured at the borders and together the criminals were hanged.

At the moment of Fletcher's death he spell upon Ginny was broken and she became a beautiful and graceful young woman.

And they lived happily ever after.

**VERSION 2**

When Ron Weasley was a child his parents died in a car accident. His two oldest brothers were away at war, leaving their five younger siblings to fend for themselves. The government, being the government, decided that no other home would take five children together, so they were split up. The oldest of the five went to one house, the twins to another, and Ron and his baby sister were taken in by an old family friend named Mundungus Fletcher.

Fletcher worked for the government, and he really had no time for children. He felt obligated to take them in but he was under no further obligation to take care of them.

The older man spent most of his time in his lab working on experimental chemicals and concoctions. There was never much food in the house and Ron and Ginny got by on scraps most of the time. Fletcher was also a big believer in 'spare the rod, spoil the child.' Ron and Ginny were small and as well behaved as young children can be expected to be, but they often received pre-emptive beatings, in case they did something bad in the future.

Ron, as the big brother in their tiny family, took it upon himself to take care of his little sister. Many nights he went without so she could eat, and he often did bad things on purpose so Fletcher's temper would turn on him, thought it went against his spirit to do so.. At night the two siblings curled up together on their narrow bed and Ron would tell Ginny stories of their real family, with mum and dad, and bill, and Charlie, and Percy, and the twins, Fred and George.

Years passed in this fashion, and while Ron's memories their family grew dimmer, Fletcher's beatings increased. He had been given new and difficult projects, dangerous chemicals meant to incapacitate the enemy in either a large swath or individually. The experiments weren't going well and he took his frustration out on the two children in his home leaving them bruised and battered.

After one beating Ron was unable to move for several days and Fletcher made Ginny leave him alone 'to learn his lesson' though Ron had no idea what he'd done wrong in the first place. She snuck him food and water when she could, but most of the time Ron made her leave him alone, hoping she would not receive the same fate.

A week later Ron was mostly recovered when Ginny came to him with a bottle of water she had stolen out of the refrigerator, she had her head down and her long fall of red hair covered her face. When Ron reached out to push it back she winced. Lifting her chin gently Ron saw a livid black bruise around her eyes and gritted his teeth. "We need to get out of this place. We can't stay here any longer."

For the first time in years Ron saw hope in his little sisters eyes and he cursed himself for not doing this sooner. Together the two began to plan.

A few days later when Ron was completely recovered, they waited for Fletcher to leave for his lab, then they bypassed the heavy security system and snuck out of the house.

They got two blocks away before Ron noticed his sister was crying.

"What's wrong, Ginny? You can't miss him?"

"No," she said, "We're free. I barely remember what that means, but it's wonderful."

She threw herself in her brothers arms and he began to cry as well. The sky above them was open and blue, the streets filled with regular people going about their regular lives, and the two red headed teens just stood in the middle of the sidewalk, crying and smiling.

Their first few nights of freedom were spent in a homeless shelter, sharing a narrow cot the way they had at home, not seeing the nuns pitying eyes take in their thin forms, ragged clothes, and fading bruises.

Ginny was still too young to get a job but Ron, at sixteen, hit a growth spurt that helped him pass for older. The brother and sister knew they would have to travel far to get away from Fletcher so Ron took up little odd jobs and they stayed in hostels ors shelters as they traveled.

His first job was in a fast food restaurant. The work was hard and the money as low, but it was more than Ron had ever had before and he and Ginny decided to celebrate by going out to a coffee shop for dinner. Ron didn't think it was very fancy, but Ginny spent most of her time watching television as she was growing up and she thought coffee shops were about the coolest place to be.

What neither red head knew was that Mundungus Fletcher was very eager to get his young charges back. In the early days of his experiments he needed human subjects. The government wouldn't allow it until he proved himself, and the children came along right when he needed them. He kept long journals of the things he subjected them to. The girl was too young for real genetic experimentation, so he had focused on suggestibility and obedience, thinking of the military implications. The boy was his prize. Fletcher had clear ideas of what humanity should be capable of, and he wanted to see if it was possible. If Fletcher had his way Ron would never know what his body was capable of. Even Fletcher didn't know how much of his work had taken hold. But he knew he had to get the children back. If the government found out what he had down with his wards he would be executed no matter how successful he was.

Fletcher knew Ron was the brains behind the escape, since the things he did to make Ginny suggestible had weakened her initiative to almost nil. But he had a plan.

At the coffee shop Ron heard a strange commercial playing over the radio, and nearby two customers were talking about it.

"I hate that commercial," the girl said.

''I know. I think it's trying to make me angry for whatever reason. Why would I want to buy something if I'm angry. It makes no sense,' the other replied.

Ron was much more intelligent than Fletcher gave him credit for and he had seen over the years his bright and impulsive sister become quieter and withdrawn with an unsettling tendency to do what she was told.

"Gin, we have to get out of here," he said as the music of the commercial played.

"Why," she replied.

Ron saw traces of red in the deep brown of her eyes, and the gentle smile she was giving him seemed to harden every moment. "Because, if we stay here you are going to kill me, now come on!" He grabbed her arm and half-dragged her our of the coffee shop and away from the commercial.

When they got outside her eyes cleared and she looked at her brother, a puzzled expression on her face. "Why did we do that? I was ready to order one of those giant coffees with the froth on top."

Ron explained what he thought was happening to Ginny, finishing with, "So I think he was trying to make you angry, maybe even angry enough to kill me."

Ginny looked shocked. "I would never kill you, Ron. You're the only family I have."

Ron saw the sheen of tears in his baby sister's eyes and hugged her. Together they decided to leave the city and move on, hopefully they would be able to get away from the angry commercial.

The news in the following weeks was filled with reports on random attacks in restaurants and coffee shops, though no one made a connection with the commercial, but as much as Fletcher searched he couldn't find the children so he decided to try another route. If he couldn't kill them, at least he could shut them up.

Miles away Ron had found another job, running a small newspaper stand. He didn't own the place, but it felt like he did and he relished the feeling of being his own boss.

Over the past few months they had done everything they could to keep Ginny from hearing the angry commercial and while there had been a few close calls they were successful. It had been a few weeks since Ron heard the commercial and Ginny wanted to try going to a coffee shop again, so after work one day they went.

The coffee shop was just the way Ginny saw in on television and she was thrilled, wandering around the spindly-legged tables, bouncing on the over stuffed couch, the singer even invited her onto the tiny stage in the corner of the room. She was so happy. Ron grinned at his sister as he ordered their drinks, a soda for him and a large cappuccino with foam for Ginny. He even got the barista to decorate the foam with a heart for his sister and he knew he would be thrilled.

On his way to the small booth his sister had finally settled on, the couch having been taken by a group of twenty-somethings already, he overheard a conversation.

"-e's not talking," one voice said.

"No. we were just listening to the radio, something about voice drops, and now he can't talk. It's the strangest thing…"

Remembering what happened at the last coffee shop, Ron looked over to his sister to see her bobbing her head to the music over the coffee shop radio. As the music stopped, the announcer came on and his voice was painfully familiar.

"So remember, if you don't use Fletcher's throat drops, you might as well stop talking."

Ron rushed over to the table and set the drinks down before looking at his sister. Her eyes were slightly glazed and he had to call her name several times before they cleared.

"Ginny, are you okay? Say something."

The red headed girl opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She looked confused, then worried, then upset. Ron reached out and pulled her into a hug. "Don't worry. I'm here and we're together and we are going to be fine."

As Ginny nodded and turned to her coffee, smiling brightly at the foam heart, Ron began to think. If Fletcher had changed his mind, wanting them silent instead of dead, then maybe they were safe.

Together Ron and Ginny kept traveling, until they were two states away. Ron reasoned that it was far enough if Fletcher really had given up, so he decided they could stop. It was hard to build a life from scratch, but Ron was smart and he had his sister to take care of, so he knew he could do it. He found a job working in a small newspaper office. First he was the office gofer, then he moved up surprisingly fast to general spelling and grammar checker, a deadly necessary role in most places where the reporters were more concerned with the story than how it was written. He was able to find a small townhouse that he got pretty cheap. It was a fixer-upper, which meant it was well on its way to falling down. Ron and Ginny worked on it in the evenings and on the week-ends but their days were full, Ron with his job, and Ginny at a school Ron found that would help her learn to function in the world with her disability.

And together they lived in peace for two years, hearing no more of their foster father or any of his conies.

One day a team of census takers was sent by the mayor to tour the poorer part of the city. They wanted to see where state and federal funds could be more effectively used.

One of them, a young man named Neville, happened to spot Ginny leaving the Hogwarts School and he pointed her out to the other member of their team. They watched the girl walk up to a dilapidated townhouse only a block away and tap an intricate pattern on the door, after which it opened.

Thinking it was interesting, Neville and Luna went back to the office and told their co-workers, and they all decided a new program to help the disabled and provide a city watch for their protection and the protection of other citizens would be a good idea, but before they put it into action, the mayor, Blaise Zabini, wanted to meet the girl and her family and see what they thought.

So together Blaise and his team of advisors traveled to the poor section of town and found the small house. Again the girl walked up and tapped on the door and as it opened Blaise thought he saw someone on the other side and he became intrigued. His thoughts were consumed on what sort of family the girl might have that would let her out on her own, teaching her how to take care of herself. He had his assistant find out as much as she could about the owners of the home, but there wasn't much information.

Finally Blaise decided to go for himself. According to their records the girl wouldn't be home for a few hours, but Blaise had memorized the tapping rhythm she had used to open the door previously and now he tried it himself.

From inside the house he heard a gentle voice say, "Ginny? What are you doing home so early?"

As the man inside spoke he seemed to some closer to the door until it finally opened and Blaise's breath caught in his throat.

Before him stood a tall and handsome red head with bright honest eyes and a soft, if confused, smile.

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

For the first time in his life Blaise found himself at a loss for words. He babbled for a moment before stopping, taking a deep breath, and starting again. "I'm sorry. My name is Blaise Zabini and I'm the mayor of this town. And you are?"

The red head offered his hand, which Blaise gratefully accepted. "I'm Ron. But how did you know that knoc--my sister? Is she all right?"

Anxiety filed the blue eyes and Blaise hastened to explain that as far as he knew the girl was fine. Then he proceeded to explain the program he was planning, a citizen's watch in the poor part of town along with funds to support a more effective system of education for disabled students.

Ron's eyes brightened at the idea and he began to suggest improvements and changes that had Blaise's head spinning. His advisors were intelligent, but none of them possessed the same passion for change that Ron showed. Together they talked in the doorway of the townhouse, argued, and discussed as the warm afternoon faded into twilight.

Blaise felt the presence behind him before he saw it, and he turned to face the girl he had been following in the first place. She had the same red hair as Ron, but her beauty was different, gentler that her fiery brother, and Blaise had always preferred fire.

He invited the brother and sister out to dinner and after long speaking looks between the two of them, they accepted.

Thus began Blaise's courtship. It was delicate at first, neither Blaise or Ron had ever dated a man before, and before Blaise the idea of being romantically interested in a man never occurred to Ron as Fletcher told him such things were sins against god.

Still, there was something about the dark-skinned man that made Ron feel safe for the first time in years, as though he wasn't alone anymore, to protect himself and Ginny.

Months passed and Blaise and Ron grew closer until one day Blaise decided he had to have Ron in his life on a permanent basis. He knew the idea of his being in love with a man might be bad for his political career, but he valued his heart and Ron's above that so on the six month anniversary of their meeting, and in the middle of the fanciest restaurant in town with reporters snapping pictures all around them, Blaise proposed.

And Ron, with a fiery blush covering his features, agreed.

It made all of the papers the very next morning, and while some people were outraged at 'such perversion' others thought it was lovely and romantic, a young orphan who had raised his disabled sister engaged to the upstart politician who had improved the quality of life for thousands of disabled or impoverished citizens.

The day the story was featured in the paper was the day Fletcher felt his world begin to collapse around him. By this point it had been over three years since the children ran away and Fletcher thought he would never have to worry about them again, but with them alive and well and Ron on the verge of marrying another man the very darkest of the scientist's secrets were about to come to light. He immediately called on his old associate, a one-eyed man named Moody, and together they created a plan that would rid Fletcher of the threat Ron represented while allowing him to see his greatest experiment come to fruition.

The engagement period was only a few months and before Ron knew it he was reciting his vows before a friendly judge, Ginny at his side and glowing with happiness for her brother as he stared into the dark eyes of the man he loved.

Their wedding night was spent at a fancy hotel before they left on their honeymoon the next day. Ron had been leery of leaving Ginny alone, but Blaise assured him that one of his team, a woman named Luna Lovegood, would be more than willing to take care of the red headed girl. Together the two men took off for a week long trip to a beautiful tropical island that they saw very little of. But, as Ron hastily assured his sister when they came home with no souvenir photographs, the room itself was lovely.

The little family moved into a small but comfortable house and they were very happy for a few weeks. Then Ron got sick. At first they all thought it was just a flu. He was dizzy and tired most of the time, and experiencing frequent bouts of nausea at all hours. But when the symptoms didn't abate, Blaise insisted they go to his family doctor, an older man named Dumbledore who had cared for generations of the Zabini family.

After a fairly straightforward examination the man announced that if Ron were a woman he would be completely healthy and about a month and a half pregnant.

Because, of course, there was no way Ron was pregnant, Blaise found the best doctors he could to determine exactly what was wrong with his husband. But all pf the results came back the same. Ron was perfectly healthy but or some symptoms and eventually an ultrasound revealed that Ron was, in fact, pregnant and judging by the fetus's development it was a honeymoon baby almost two months along.

This discovery led to some awkwardness between the young couple, neither sure how to react to the news. They were happy about the baby, but Ron had no idea how it happened and Blaise wasn't sure what to believe.

Their personal relationship wasn't the only concern, however. As it often goes in these things, the news leaked easily and if there had been a publicity furor over the gay marriage, it was nothing compared to the pregnant man.

Blaise had Dumbledore and his team examine Ron again, now that they knew he was pregnant, to see how it was possible, and the results they found were disturbing. They thought he might be a hermaphrodite at first, though the more uncharitable on the team thought he might be a female-to-male transsexual. In fact Dumbledore found that intense genetic restructuring had been done to Ron, forcing his body to create the structures and hormones that would support life in the baby.

They found other things as well. Ron's growth and physical development had been encouraged, making him larger and stronger than he might have been. His vision and hearing had been improved, along with his intelligence.

All of these things seemed familiar to Dumbledore. He knew there was some crackpot scientist who had promised this was possible, but that was ten years ago or more.

The pregnancy went on normally and Ron and Blaise moved past their anxiety in enthusiasm for the birth of their child. Ginny didn't seem to entirely understand what was happening, but she stayed by her brother's side every day, taking care of him the way she had when they were children, the way he had always taken care of her.

At eight months, three weeks, and four and a half days, Ron's water broke, sending him, Blaise, and most of the people in the house, Blaise having brought in most of his staff to help, into a panic.

Ginny was utterly calm as she signaled Blaise to call for Dumbledore and drafted a few of the staff members to help Ron into bed and get some clean towels. Though everyone was still afraid, there was a joy in their actions now. The baby was on his way.

Throughout the pregnancy Fletcher had been making his way closer to the family. He didn't dare approach them in public. He knew Ron and Ginny would recognize him and when he heard that Dumbledore was tending to the pregnant boy his heart froze in his chest. When he was still working for the University Dumbledore had been the head of the genetic studies department and Fletcher spent hours trying to prove his research was worthwhile and not just some fever dream of playing God. If the older man made the connection, Fletcher was sunk.

A few days before Ron was due, Fletcher created a disguise for Moody in the hope that he could sneak Ron out and examine him without attracting too much attention. Once Fletcher had all of the proof he needed that his experiments were a success they could get Moody out of the situation and dispose of Ron without anyone know the wiser.

The day Ron's water broke, Fletcher was working as a gardener on Blaise's property. When he heard the news he snuck Moody into the birthing room as a nurse. The delivery took hours and Fletcher observed the entire thing on a camera he made Moody wear. When it was over and the baby was born the other nurses brought the child out to see its other father and Fletcher made his move.

Moody drugged Ron and lifted him towards the window where Fletcher was waiting, then took his place on the bed, putting his disguise in order. The only thing Fletcher couldn't hide was the scar where Moody lost an eye, so the man kept his head down and turned away as the nurses returned to the room.

Waving them off with murmurs about soreness and exhaustion, the false Ron cuddled down in the oft bedding and grinned, mentally counting the money he would receive for his work.

In a small shed at the back of the property, Fletcher subdued Ron easily and drugged him into a come. The drug was experimental and Fletcher wasn't sure exactly how it would work on the genetically altered young man, but he expected it would be enough to keep him unconscious for a few days. And a few days is all he needed.

That night Ginny took up her post on a rocking chair next to her nephew's crib. Blaise was disappointed he couldn't spend the night sleeping beside his husband as he had for the past months, but his team of advisors wanted to celebrate so they spent the evening in a bar not too far from the house, toasting to Ron and the baby's good health.

No one was awake when a pale and trembling figure made his way into the house and through the quiet dim rooms.

Ginny was woken by a strange shuffling noise, and when she looked up she saw her brother standing over the baby's crib, brushing his fingers across the soft cheeks. She made an enquiring noise and Ron smiled at her before turning back to his son.

The three of them spent hours in silence before the sun began to rise and Ron visibly weakened. Ginny rushed forward to help him, but he pushed her away, a frightened look on his face.

"No, Gin. You stay here and watch the baby. I-- I have to go." With that the red head left.

Hours later Ginny went to her brother's bedroom to see him asleep, the covers pulled up over his face. She nudged his shoulder but he just grunted.

When there was no further response Ginny returned to the nursery where a well-mussed and completely hungover Blaise joined her.

The Hogwarts school had been very good in teaching Ginny, Ron, and Blaise sign language and now Ginny called on all of her vocabulary to tell Blaise that she thought something was wrong with Ron before recounting he events of the previous night and morning.

Blaise wasn't sure what to believe so he went and checked on his husband, but he found Ron as unresponsive as Ginny had. Unsure of the cause Blaise asked all of the nurses if anything out of the ordinary had happened during the delivery. Apart from Ron's being a man, everything went as per usual and none of them had anything to say so Blaise returned to Ginny with the news that there was no news, but at her prompting he agreed to spend the night in the nursery and see what happened.

Just as the previous night, Ron, looking more haggard and worn than he had before, came staggering into the room after midnight. Blaise bit back a gasp at the sight of his husband. He hadn't gotten a good look at the Ron in the bed, but he knew the other man was healthier than this.

Again Ron took up his place by the baby's crib, pressing kisses and sweet caresses against the soft baby skin of his son. Ginny stood up from the rocking chair and stood next to, but not touching, her brother. He turned to her and smiled, but the smile was weaker than it had been the night before.

"I'm sorry, Ginny. I've made such a mess of things and now poor Blaise and the baby are going to have to do without me."

Ginny shook her head in negation and wrapped her arms around her brother tightly, but as she did so he winced and pulled away and Blaise saw dark red stains seep through the fabric of his husband's shirt.

"Look, I don't know what's going on half the time. It's like I'm in some long nightmare and I-" Ron's voice faded. "I just want it to end. I want it to stop. I think I have the energy to come back one more night, then I can't fight anymore so you have to take care of Blaise and the baby, okay?"

Ginny nodded firmly and Ron pressed a kiss to her forehead, then to the baby's, before leaving the room.

Blaise came out of the closet and followed Ron, but before he could catch up to the red head, he was gone.

Frustrated Blaise returned to the nursery and looked at Ginny. "We have to do something. I don't know what's going on, but I refuse to lose him and I will not let him give up."

Together the man and his sister in law visited 'Ron' in his bed, but again the man refused to look at them or rise. When Ginny signed to him he gave no air of recognition, even looking puzzled at her frantic gestures.

Blaise had all of the security cameras around his home and property turned on, even the ones in the nursery and bedrooms that he usually kept off for privacy's sake and that night he and Ginny sat watch in the nursery for Ron, the real Ron.

In the wee dark hours of the morning the red head appeared again, looking exhausted and worn he seemed to be nothing more than a shadow of his former self. He walked past Blaise and sister as if they weren't there and went directly to the baby's crib, tears making their way past dark circles and shrunken cheeks.

Without acknowledging Blaise or Ginny, Ron began to speak, never looking away from his baby. "I don't know what he did to me. I don't know, but I'm so tired all of the time and I can barely stay awake for these few hours. I can't fall asleep, I can't. if I fall asleep again I may never wake up, but I'm so tired."

Ron's knees began to tremble and Blaise rushed forward, taking most of his husband's now meager weight onto himself. Dimmed blue eyes met dark brown and Ron smiled again, the way he had when they first met, soft and confused.

"How do I deserve you? How do I deserve someone who loves me as much as you do? I'm sorry, Blaise. I'm sorr…"

Ron trailed off as his eyelids began to fall and Blaise panicked, gesturing for Ginny to press the button hidden on the wall. She did and a troupe of guards and doctors rushed the room, taking Ron from Blaise's arms and examining him as the red head slipped into unconsciousness.

Dumbledore led his team to lift Ron onto a stretcher and take it into another room that had been prepared for him while Blaise took his guards in to confront the false Ron.

When they got there they found him standing at the window, one leg over the sill. The guards dragged him back inside and obtained information on where they could fins his partner. While half the team went out to the shed to stop Fletcher before he could get away another team held on to Moody until the police could arrive.

It was a frantic night for everyone involved, finally calming down as the dawn began to lighten the sky.

Blaise made his way to the room they were using for Ron and found Dumbledore standing in the doorway.

"Is he-- Is he okay?"

The old man's eyes twinkled. "He'll be fine. He was drugged but something in his system fought off the chemicals until we were able to get to him. If he had given up we would have lost him, but now I think he will be all right."

Blaise felt tears well up in his eyes at that. They had come so close to losing Ron.

He pushed past Dumbledore and into the bedroom, taking a seat in the chair next to the bed.

Ron was sleeping peacefully. Ginny had moved a small cradle into the room so the baby could rest next to his 'mommy,' and the girl herself was asleep on a daybed in the corner.

Blaise took in the sight of his little family and smiled, finally letting the tears fall. As he felt Ron's fingers caress his cheek, wiping away the salty drop of sorrow he knew they would all live happily ever after.

(_12345_)

**Note: **So there we have it. I'm not sure what fairy tale I will do next or when. These really depend on inspiration. Also some of them may be girl/girl if I feel that fits the plot better than any of the fellas.

**Notes on Bearskin 1: **For those who are interested, here are some notes from the original version of this story. The coat the princess wears when she escapes her father is alternately made of a bear's skin or fur from every type of animal in the kingdom, leading the her being called Bearskin or Many Furs by those that find her. The tiny gifts she receives are a spinning wheel, a ring, and a fish hook. But I thought there was something a bit ominous in her slipping a fish hook into the soup so I changed it. Also, in the version I read the princess actually ends up hiding in her father's castle, events proceed apace, and she winds up marrying her dad.So, no judgments or anything, but I decided to change that bit.

Okay, review and tell me which version you preferred, or if you want, why they both sucked, and I'll see you next time.


End file.
